Okay, maybe it was a little less dramatic than that. Maybe C went rabbit hunting in the pasture and saw something move and went to investigate. He did find a newborn calf (estimated time of birth: Saturday AM) tucked away under a tree with no mama cow anywhere to be found. In Farmer M's opinion (him being the owner of said calf), the mama cow had cleaned up her calf and fed him his first meal, when she most likely went to eat for herself. C did not see any tracks, so of course gave Farmer M a call.
Farmer M drove over, loaded the calf up, and took him home to his very own mudroom. We went over to visit! This is the baby bull (seeing as how he still had his testicles, for another couple hours at least). He was keeping good company with Farmer M's five granddaughters petting him. Okay, maybe I was petting him too while C and Farmer M discussed guns and gun laws. I was told that a bottle fed, or hand fed, calf is a lot of work and I mentioned that even if I could take him home, I wouldn't want to because I'd have to name him Hamburger or Ribeye. Eating someone named Henry just doesn't seem right to me.
Still, no telling what shape this little guy would be in if C hadn't stumbled on him. I was just surprised that any female creature pushes something that big out of her body (I am aware that there are bigger babies, but still). It was the heart-warming story for the weekend and C is such a sweet hero. 
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